These moments
by mag31
Summary: [Collection of Oneshots] What if we could read their mind? What if we had more than 43 minutes? And what if these moments were more than that? BB all the way!
1. Hot coffee

_**A/N : **__**You know how hysterical I am about BB moments. Yes, I'm talking about these awesome last 2-3 minutes of each episode. So let's pretend that we had more than 43 minutes; that Booth was a little less shy, because don't tell me you didn't realize he has now accepted the idea of being in love with his partner (I mean, at least, since the beginning of season 3); that we can read their mind; and that we (at least, I) have the power to make them do what we want.**_

_**I don't own the dialogs I stole from the episode. I'll never change anything; only add descriptions, thoughts, feelings. And continue the scene with what could have happened after.**_

_**Each chapter with be about each episode of season 3.**_

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**Chapter 1 : Hot coffee ('The Widow's son in the Windshield')**

"Hodgins was right. This killer's part of something bigger."

Booth repressed a sigh, hoping that now she had sat herself down on the bench beside him, she'd stop rambling about the case; and pay attention to him. It may be childish, but it was the truth. Seeley Booth really needed a little attention from his partner, right now – not much, just enough to reassure him.

"Here's your coffee", Booth said, holding her one of the Styrofoam cups he had carried from the store.

But, lost in her thoughts, she didn't turn her gaze to him.

He was pretty sure that had they been walking for miles, she would have followed him without being aware of it. And if he had plunged into the fountain, she would have gone in with him. But, hey, how bad could it be, bathing with Bones in the fountain?

He suddenly found himself acting like a school boy dreaming during biology class. At any moment she could ask him what he 'thought about this', and he'd pass as a dolt, as usual.

"Gavin Nichols' violin was in there. I bet there are belongings from other murder victims, too. We have to catalogue every item in that vault."

Her voice was just a buzz in his ears; he couldn't concentrate. It had to be because of the lack of caffeine in his system. All he wanted was for her to take this damn cup of coffee – maybe she'd even thank him and give her one of her special smiles that made him feel dizzy, but he didn't count much on this - so that he would be able to drink his own one. If she intended to continue her scientific talk, he was really going to need it.

"Hot coffee", he tried again.

Again, her eyes fixing on some indefinite point in the space where her thoughts seemed to be, Brennan did not make a move to take the cup. He would have been too lucky. He even wondered if she was actually talking to him. The scientific stuff was going to flow from her lips very soon. He could almost feel it now. Jeez… He had been spending too much time with squints… Was he emotionally connected to them or something? Creepy… Well, unless when it came to Bones.

"After we do a visual and microscopic examination of each human bone in the silver skeleton, we'll take samples and do an in-depth axiological breakdown. We really have a lot to do."

_Told ya._

He moved the cup of coffee closer to her.

"Yeah, starting with coffee."

At last, she took it. Lost in her thoughts as she was, he wondered if she would have noticed if he had given her hot coke instead of coffee, and how many gulps would have been necessary for her to realise what she was drinking and spit it out.

He was staring at her, but not listening; her voice sounded so far. It felt so good to be sitting on this bench, just the two of them, after he had been running after her for weeks. He wasn't convinced that this sudden change in her behaviour had anything to do with Zack's return – he had never believed in this, it was just a lame excuse to avoid him – but she was there, now.

The place was beautiful and quiet. It seemed like she would never stop talking, but God, she was gorgeous. And she was dangerously moving her cup of coffee to her lips. Crisis situation. He couldn't have pulled her out of the sand when she had been buried alive by the Grave Digger and let her burn herself with stupid coffee now.

"An isotope profile will allow us to narrow down possible geographical..."

In a fast, not fully-considered gesture, he placed his hand over the cup, just before the hot liquid made contact with her soft lips.

"Hey, it's hot!"

It was the side of his hand, instead, which her lips touched. She did not make a move, but turned her eyes to him. At least, he had caught her attention, and she was silent now. Wait… Her lips were touching the side of his hand? God. She was kissing his hand, wasn't she? Or sort of…

Their eyes met. What could she possibly be thinking at this second?

She put the cup down, slowly, not averting her surprised gaze from him. All right. Definite awkward moment.

"You're going to burn yourself, Bones", he managed to utter in a hoarse voice. Why did he feel the need to justify himself as if he had done something wrong?

"Thank you", she said simply.

He moved his hand off of the cup, and turned his head. _Find something to say, change the subject. Quickly._

"Listen, this whole serial killer... it's not going to be our usual case."

"Why?"

"Why? Because it's big and he's bad."

"I don't see what difference that makes."

"Because you have to slow down. All right? Take a breath. You have to realise that this is not a sprint, it's gonna be a marathon. Marathon, Bones, coming from the Greek, meaning really, really, really long run."

"It's not how the word "marathon" originated."

_God. Why does she always feel obliged to…_ Booth sighed slightly. _Never mind._

"Look, there's something else I got to know, and it's important", he said with a serious tone. "We solid?"

"You and me? Yeah."

"No, not just you and me. The squints, too. Zack is back for good. Angela and Hodgins have their head back in the game. Cam, she's locked in."

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Because... you and me, we're the centre."

Through the look which spread across her features, he knew that she understood.

"And the centre must hold", she completed.

_That's my girl._

"Right, so... are we gonna hold?"

"Yeah. We'll hold." She smiled, apparently loving this idea. And he loved her loving it. "We're the centre."

"The centre", he repeated. He had never realised how fond he was of this word, if it was them who it was referring to.

She presented him her hand, as if to seal an agreement, and during a couple of seconds, it reminded him of the cup of coffee. He took her hand and shook it, but couldn't help laughing.

"What's funny?" she asked, puzzled.

"I thought you were gonna kiss my hand again."

"I did not kiss your hand. You put it over my coffee cup", she protested, illustrating her words by an amusing gesture.

He rubbed his chin and cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her, pretending he was less affected than he actually was.

"Felt like you kissed it", he teased.

"No", she said, staring at the fountain.

Man, she did feel uncomfortable.

"Felt like it", he insisted.

He couldn't help it. It was so good to see this crimson color on her cheeks.

"No."

He glanced at her. Oh yeah, no doubt, she was blushing.

He smirked as he saw her taking a sip of coffee - desperate attempt at begging him to stop titillating her - and then he did the same.

_Don't think I'm finished with you, Bones._

"I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable", he said, having a hard time repressing a smile.

"I do not feel uncomfortable", she retorted in a neutral tone – or what she thought was one.

He chuckled. "Oh yes, you do." _Gotta admit it, Bones._

"No, I'm not", she said before swallowing another sip of coffee.

"I bet you are."

She huffed, moving her cup down onto her lap.

"Stop it, Booth! What are you, a twelve-year-old?" she snapped, eying him with annoyance.

_Touchy_, he noted with satisfaction. Wasn't it the proof of her embarrassment?

Sparks of anger were present in her eyes, and her lips were pouting. Aw, those lips.

_Twelve years old? Yeah, maybe. So what?_

Not letting his eyes off of her until the very last moment, he leaned towards her and pressed his lips against hers – long enough to become intoxicated with her scent and her smoothness, but short enough to still be able to stop.

One more second and he would have been incapable of letting go of her. Each part of him that had been touching her, each fragment of his lips and skin, were as if on fire.

He turned his gaze back to the expanse of water, or the buildings further ahead, or maybe the sky – whatever – and moved his cup to his lips, reluctantly. Somehow, he was afraid that the coffee would clean his lips of the taste of her.

"You can stop being embarrassed now. We're even."

He swallowed another sip of coffee, for now he was sure that nothing would wash the feeling of her lips against his. And he hoped that it would help him bear the knot in his stomach which hadn't dissolved as he had been expecting, but had got even stronger.

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_**A/N : **__**So what did you think? Want me to continue with episode 2?**_


	2. Single malt

_**A/N : **__**Yay, drunk Booth! I think this was my favorite BB moment ever, with the hug at the end of Headless Witch. I loved how he rested his head on her shoulder, and the very end, when we see their backs… Aw… I hope I won't disappoint you with how I chose to continue this scene!**_

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**Chapter 2 : Single malt ('Soccer Mom in the Minivan')**

Seeley Booth was smashed.

Tonight, he had celebrated the end of a thirty-year-old case with agent Sam Reilly who, during all these years, had kept a bottle of single malt for this special occasion – an occasion which, honestly, he had been thinking would never occur. But tonight, they had actually been drinking this scotch, talking about various random things.

Although he had refused politely to finish the bottle, an offer which he knew was far from reasonable, one thing was sure: Booth was in no condition to drive. And when he had grabbed his cell phone, he could have called a taxi, but instead, he had dialled the number of his partner and friend Temperance Brennan, who he knew was, despite the advanced hour, stuck in her office, doing the paperwork linked to the case. Aware of this, and of the fact that he could have helped, he had been feeling guilty, which was one of the reasons why he had called her – for he somehow believed that it wasn't too late to make up for it.

But since they had been sitting on the stone stairs leading to the Lincoln Memorial, his guilty feeling had but grown. Because of him, she hadn't finished the paperwork; he had difficulties keeping up with a conversation, and even more difficulties to talk in a coherent way. To sum it up, he was but a pain in the ass. Not only had she left her office, picked him up at the Hoover Building and bought him a coffee, she was also acting more patiently than ever.

And he was having a hard time acting as kindly and normally as possible, for he had drank just enough to be unsure he still had complete control over his words and actions.

"How much scotch did you drink?"

"Oh, uh… Just enough. You know, I would've invited you, but, Reilly, he just... Well, he doesn't like you."

"I understand", she said, lowering her gaze.

_Good job, man. Look what you've done now._

"I'm sorry, was that rude?"

"Not from someone who's been drinking", she reassured him with a smile.

Feeling better, he admired the nocturnal view in front of him. The starry sky, the illuminated Washington Monument reflecting in the pond… It was so beautiful and quiet. But even more beautiful was his partner sitting beside him, and it became urgent to find something intelligent to say.

"God… You know, I love this place. I love it. I love this country."

_And I love you more._

"You know, I'll tell you something, if I was working law enforcement back in the day when they threw all that tea, all right, in the harbour, I'm good. All right, I'm good, I would've rounded everybody up, and we'd still be English."

_And, obviously, this last glass of scotch had been too much._

She suppressed a laugh.

"You think?" she asked, pretending that his speech had been coherent.

"Yep. Yep, I… definitely..."

He sighed and took another sip of coffee.

"I saw my father."

He turned his head to look at her.

"Wow, I didn't think that you were gonna… do that."

"As an anthropologist, I accept change as the natural order of things. But with him, I didn't allow for transformation. You know, I predicated his behavior based on a set of outmoded preconceptions. It wasn't rational."

He had listened to her, frowning. He tried to concentrate as much as he could on her anthropological vocabulary. He had really meant to, but it seemed that the amount of alcohol in his system made this impossible at the moment.

"Wow, I didn't get any of that", he confessed.

"If I was conducting an objective experiment on my father, observing his behaviour, I'd... have to conclude that he loves me."

He leaned slightly towards her, and he had been about to rest his head on her shoulder, but fortunately, she didn't seem to notice.

"Hmm, why? What happened?" he asked, looking at her.

"We played cards."

Okay. He really didn't catch this either, but it didn't really matter. She had never seemed so happy talking about her father, and her smile warmed his heart.

"Cool."

"I killed him."

He turned his head to her again, grinning.

"Good for you."

They laughed together.

Damn. He had actually done it, this time – leaning his head on her shoulder. He straightened his head to look at her. She was laughing, too. She didn't seem to care. So he did it again, for if he kept staring at her like this, he'd end up kissing her.

"I like this place, too", she stated, not complaining about his shoulder digging into her side.

"Yeah… beautiful…"

He let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.

"Love ya, Bones."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I love you too Booth", she replied, patting his head. "And you're absolutely smashed."

He straightened, put the cup of coffee down on the step and got to his feet. She was fumbling in her pocket to find her keys when she noticed that he was holding out his hand to her. She grabbed it, smiling, and he helped her stand up.

"Okay, let's – "

"May I have this dance?" Booth asked, cutting her off.

She stared at him, puzzled.

"What?"

"May I have this dance?" he repeated, still opening his arms.

She let out a laugh – embarrassed? Amused?

"You do know that alcohol has a depressant effect on your central nervous system, leading to - "

"C'mon, Bones. Have fun, just once in your life!"

"But we can't dance, Booth, there's no music…" she pointed out.

"Let's just pretend, then. C'mon."

She sighed. This was so not a good idea. But it was so tempting, taking the hand he was offering her; and so hard, resisting his patented charm smile. So she did it: she took his hand. And he surprised her when, instead of just holding her hand, he entwined his fingers with hers, grabbing her waist gently to pull her closer.

"Do you hear it?" he murmured.

"Hear what?"

"The music", he specified, as if it was obvious.

"There's no music, Booth - nothing to be heard."

"Wrong. I can hear it."

"Yeah, 'cause you're smashed", she said, insisting on the last word.

"Oh, c'mon, Bones, make an effort. Please. "

"I'm afraid I can't do this without some alcohol in my blood, too."

Humming a song she didn't recognise, he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her even closer.

She tensed up in his arms, torn between attraction and fear. What the hell was he doing? It wasn't a dance, really. It was a hug, an embrace. Not a dance. She should have stopped this but something was keeping her from pulling apart.

He buried his nose in her hair, intoxicating himself with its scent. A mix of vanilla and coconut, he thought.

Wait… Was he smelling her hair? Yes, no doubt. He was smelling her hair. And why was it that her legs were shaking?

His lips brushing her hair, he gently leaned his forehead on her temple. The sensation of her skin against his sent sparks of electricity through his body.

"I love you, Bones", he whispered. These words were the same as earlier, and yet, they were different. "It's just too bad I had to drink so much scotch to conjure up the courage to tell you."

Again, she could have pulled apart, made him stop, taken her keys and driven him home. But she didn't. She didn't encourage him, either. Stunned by both astonishment and fear, she didn't make a move until the very moment, when his lips found hers. And only when they did, because it was too late anyway, she let her hand slip to the back of his head, running her fingers through his short hair, and allowed him entrance to her mouth. He tasted like coffee, scotch, and something else that seemed specially him.

The warmth and dizziness due to alcohol were but increased by her response to the kiss. God, she tasted delicious. He felt her shivering against him when he let his right hand slip along her spinal cord.

And he congratulated himself that he had refused to finish the bottle of single malt, for he really, really wanted to remember everything in the morning.

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_**A/N : **__**So, what did you think?**_


	3. When two people become one

_**A/N : **__**Seems like an update night! Thanks so much for your kind reviews, and good reading!**_

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**Chapter 3 : When two people become one ('Death in the Saddle')**

He had seen bodies immersed in tubs filled with detergents, teenagers buried alive, dead criminals in concrete, and even voodoo priests. But this—this was by far the weirdest case that Seeley Booth had ever investigated during his whole career with the FBI. These people and their pony play thing… Man, the mere thought made him sick.

Yet, at the moment, what annoyed him the most was his partner singing the praises of being a vegetarian while he was eating his 'Diner Special' —a menu including a delicious double hamburger.

Unfortunately, what contented Temperance Brennan the most was to tease the poor Booth mercilessly, questioning his beliefs, casting doubt on his lifestyle and testing his boundaries.

"There are many health benefits to being a vegetarian. It's a rational choice in a world where food supplies are affected by global warming issues."

Booth wrinkled his nose. What was it with Bones and her sudden insistence to change him into a grass eater?

"What about global taste issues?"

"Is that meat sweet, rich, super lean, and soft?" she asked with mocking in her eyes.

Booth let his double hamburger drop in his plate, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"What? Does it taste like horse meat?" he asked, sort of disgusted.

_Got ya, Booth. _Brennan exulted inwardly. She never stopped at anything to win an argument—especially with her partner.

"Maybe you should consider going vegetarian, too", she concluded, having a hard time preventing herself from grinning.

"I didn't lose my appetite because you mentioned horse meat. I lost my appetite because you made me think about all those people parading around pretending to be something they aren't just so they could have crappy sex."

_That's it, Booth. Let's change the subject_, Brennan thought, ready to annoy him no matter what the subject was.

"How do you know it's crappy?" she hastened to inquire.

"Gotta be, Bones. Come on, it's gotta be."

"Why?" she insisted.

He stared at her for a couple of seconds, then leaned over, resting his forearms on the table.

"Why? I'll tell you why. Here we are, all of us, basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some… they just give up hope because, in their mind, they're thinking, 'Oh, there's nobody out there for me', but all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark. And yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful, maybe that's all they see at first, but making love... making love... that's when two people become one."

In spite of herself, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her and this curious feeling in her belly. The way he was looking at her, she could almost drown in his eyes. She did understand what he meant, and she did agree, but she had to do something.

"It is scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space", she retorted, less convincing than she had intended to.

Booth felt slightly frustrated and disappointed. The way she was looking at him, he had almost thought he had won, this time. But, once more, he had been mistaken. He'd have been so lucky.

"Yeah, but what's important is we try, and when we do it right, we get close."

"To what? Breaking the laws of Physics?"

"Yeah, Bones. A miracle."

Oh God. It was happening again—the whole 'drowning-in-his-eyes' thing. How came it felt so right when he was rambling about all this?

As if he had been able to feel her discomfort, he leaned back and decided to stuff a little bit more into those widened eyes of hers. Oh yes, he was winning this one.

"Those people with their role-playing and their fetishes and their little sex games, it's crappy sex. Well, you know, at least compared to the real thing."

His eyes fell down to his plate. Now that he had finished speaking, he felt slightly embarrassed to have brought up this subject with his partner. The fact was, they both felt so much more comfortable around each other, now. Some months ago, he would have refused to address the subject with her. But this time, he really had to clarify it—with her. He needed to. And this time, he was determined not to let her have the last word.

She lowered her gaze, too, considering her partner's speech. When she found no counter-argument, and because the idea of shattering this reasoning somehow felt so wrong to her, she decided that, for once—but this time only—she was going to agree with him.

"You're right."

"Yeah, but..." he began before fully comprehending the meaning of her words, his fork hovering in mid-air. He stared at her, hardly able to believe his ears, before chuckling. "Wait a second, I just won that argument?"

"Yep" she answered, avoiding his gaze.

He couldn't believe it. He did win the argument. And, man, what an argument! He stared at her, grinning. She smiled back, first. And, whoa, if he had just been able to cross the space between them and kiss her deeply... But soon, he saw her smile fading, and her eyes filled with melancholy.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah", she reassured him with a slight smile before sticking her fork into her salad.

He said nothing. Obviously, it wasn't the place or the moment to discuss what exactly was bothering her.

But when, in the car, she remained silent and thoughtful, even more than before, he had to admit that something was actually going on.

"You offer me a drink?" he asked cheerfully, stopping the car in her parking lot.

"Sure", she accepted more easily than he had thought she would.

As she unlocked the door, she felt relieved not to have to come back to her empty, quiet apartment alone—at least, not this soon.

"Beer?" she proposed, getting rid of her jacket.

Booth smiled this charm smile of his. "Sure!"

It warmed her heart, and made it constricted at the same time. Why did he always have to look at her like this?

"I'll be right back."

She headed to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. When she turned around and found herself facing Booth, she froze. She had expected him to make himself comfortable on the couch, as usual; instead of this, he was leaned against the counter, observing her. He reached out and took the bottles from her hands before putting them down behind him.

"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked gently, his head slightly cocked to the side.

She gauged the concern in his eyes before arching her brows, pretending to be surprised.

"Nothing, I'm fine. Why are you asking?"

He pushed himself up on his arms to stand in full height.

"C'mon, Bones. We're partners, right? And beside that, we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes", she admitted.

"Ever since before we left the Diner, you're… I don't know… thoughtful, sad… Did I say anything wrong?"

She let out a sigh and rested her back against the counter.

"No, you didn't", she said, fixing her gaze on the ground.

He moved to stand before her.

"It's not because I won the argument, is it?" he inquired with a teasing smile.

She raised her gaze to look at him. A ghost of a smile touched her lips but soon vanished.

"No, it's just… I'm not sure I've ever felt this with anyone."

"You mean, becoming one with someone else?"

When she nodded slightly, averting her eyes once again, he moved closer.

He pushed away the few locks of hairs that hided the left side of her face and tucked them behind her ear, thus revealing her smooth, creamy skin.

"It's no big deal, Bones. It will happen, some day."

Uttering these words felt almost painful to him. Yet, he fought the urge to let his fingers brush her cheek, for he was aware that he had already overstepped his boundaries with her.

"I'm not so sure about it, now", she whispered sadly, her voice barely audible.

His throat tightened at hearing her voice, and when his gaze met her watery eyes again, and he saw how heavy with sorrow and regrets they were, he felt his heart racing harder against his chest, and his resolutions instantly ran away.

"I promise you."

He placed his left arm around her waist, while the fingertips of his right hand caressed her cheek, and he justified this to his conscience by persuading himself that he was doing this for her—this distress had to disappear from her eyes.

"Stop making promises that you can't keep, Booth", she said, smiling with disbelief.

He leaned his forehead on hers, their noses almost touching.

"I think I could keep this one", he said, tightening his grip around her waist to pull her closer.

He moved his mouth close to hers, hesitating. Only when he was sure she wouldn't push him back, he pressed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. And when he felt her responding to it, he thought that, by dint of racing madly in his chest, his heart was going to explode.

As she deepened the kiss, her arms went around his neck and his fingers slid through her silky hair. The line was forgotten. It didn't exist anymore. Honestly, it had never actually existed. It was just an excuse, an illusion—a promise that couldn't be kept. But other promises could be.

When their lips parted, their lungs screaming for air, he let his hand slide under her shirt, caressing her warm skin along her spinal cord, and he felt her shivering. His lips traced her jaw, then her neck. When he kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, she wasn't able to hold back a moan.

"So… Wanna give it a try?" he murmured in her ear before looking her in the eyes.

Studying them, he saw no sorrow anymore. He saw no regrets. He only saw a spark which he knew was desire, and which he hoped was love.

Her smile, as well, wasn't forced anymore.

"Yep. Let's see if you can keep this promise."

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_**A/N : **__**So… Happy? Disappointed? Anyway, feel free to tell me what you thought about it! I'll update as soon as I can.**_


	4. Our relationship

A/N :

_**A/N : **__**I know it's been quite a while, I'm sorry for that. Don't worry, I do intend to write about every episode, but it's just taking me longer than I thought it would. Anyway, it'll occupy me during the break :'(**_

**Chapter 4 : Our relationship ('The Secret in the Soil')**

Brennan settled herself comfortably in the armchair; or at least, gave the impression of being comfortable, for she was everything but. She glanced at her partner, whose gloomy look told her that he wasn't any more at ease. There couldn't have been a worse time for this session, but they didn't have a choice. They had to attend it.

"So, case finished?" Sweets asked cheerfully, breaking the heavy silence which had been reigning since they had entered the room.

"Yes," Brennan answered with a tired voice.

Yes, the case was over, but Kat's sobs kept ringing in her ears. The case was solved, but it did not fix the destroyed lives. She and Booth had done their job, but it didn't help in making the knot in her stomach disappear, and she knew that it was the same for her partner.

"Congratulations!" Sweets' happy tone sounded false.

"Yeah," Booth said thoughtfully.

"You don't seem too happy," noted Sweets.

"Well, because sometimes, if you win, you end up with somebody else's pain and screwed-up life," Booth explained. "You work for the FBI, you should know that," he added, sort of scornfully.

"Must be a challenge for you to access those feelings," Sweets said, looking at Booth.

Brennan felt a wave of anger wash over her. What was he talking about? What was he trying to do?

"Okay, stop," she ordered the shrink, waving her hand. "You don't know Booth. You don't know me, you have a limited view of us based on superficial data you've accumulated on a standardized questionnaire, and a subjective analysis from talking to us that is not at all scientific, so back off."

She emphasized the last two words, giving the young shrink a gesture and a look that she hoped would intimidate him. This was so not the moment to mess with either of them. As a shrink, he should have guessed that, shouldn't he?

"Just trying to help," he mumbled.

"What? By questioning his humanity?"

It was some kind of implicit agreement sealed after their last session. During those sessions, they were united. They had to be, for the sake of their partnership which they had to preserve from the stupid FBI bureaucrats who questioned its efficiency. Both of them were ready to struggle as fervently to preserve what neither of them wanted to be destroyed.

Besides, she'd let no stupid shrink attack her partner. Even though she herself took pleasure in teasing him or annoying him, this was—it was different.

"Okay, Bones, now you're going a little bit overboard" Booth said, turning to his partner. "He's just a kid. Right? I mean, the worst thing that's probably ever happened to him was he lost at Mortal Kombat", he added, chuckling, as if they were alone and Sweets couldn't see or hear them.

Brennan relaxed, relieved to note that her partner wasn't letting himself be upset by the "twelve-year-old". Sweets began to hit the arm of his chair with his pen. Was it a nervous gesture or only a way to annoy her a little bit more?

"Are you normally this protective of him, Dr. Brennan?"

The question startled her at first, but the answer came naturally. "We are partners. Our lives depend on being protective of each other."

According to Booth's attitude, she had the feeling that she had given the right answer. United. No more arguments. No more bickering. United.

"And you feel the same way, Agent Booth?"

"Sweets, I can only hope that one day you know what a real partnership is."

The conviction of his tone warmed Brennan's heart and she smiled inwardly. Obviously, he was proud of their partnership. It was precious to him. Well, it was precious to her, too.

"You two are very close", the shrink stated. "That was evident in your superficial, standardized questionnaire and my unscientific observations", he added ironically, looking at Brennan in particular.

"Yeah?" Booth said. His tone told Brennan that he admitted that, after all, the "kid" was smarter than he looked at first sight. And she herself was surprised by the main conclusion the shrink had drawn out of their questionnaires.

"You complement each other."

Booth burst out laughing.

"Oh, no, she never compliments me. Did you compliment me in the questionnaire?"

"'Complement' ," Brennan corrected, turning to him. "Not "compliment". 'Ple'. He means that we complete each other, as a team," she explained patiently.

Booth looked disappointed. "Yeah, right."

"Now, we've got a lot to work on over the next few months", Sweets said, waving his pen as he was talking.

Booth and Brennan exchanged looks.

"Meaning we get to stay together?" Brennan asked, waiting to be sure about it before being delighted at the news.

"Yes."

Booth leaned closer to his partner. "I'm sensing a 'but'."

"However—" the shrink began.

"It's the same as 'but' ," Brennan pointed out.

"I have observed some underlying issues that need to be addressed."

"Issues?" Booth asked while Brennan tensed in her seat, wondering what on earth Sweets could have invented from their questionnaires.

"Yes. There's clearly a very _deep_ emotional attachment between you two."

She fixed her gaze on the shrink absently, trying to figure out what was wrong with a 'deep emotional attachment' between partners. He had insisted on the word 'deep'. Obviously, this was what bothered him, or he would have left them alone.

"We're just partners," Booth said in a rush, defending himself—or them both—almost out of habit.

"And why do you think I would have thought otherwise?" the shrink asked with a smirk that seemed to annoy Booth to a high point.

"'Cause you're twelve," the FBI agent scoffed, feeling attacked.

"Don't read into anything that Booth said," Brennan said with a curt flick of her hand, trying to calm things down before Sweets would take offense. "We're professionals. There's a line that doesn't even need to be there."

"Not at all. I mean, if—if there were no more murders, I—would probably not even—you know, see her", Booth explained, developing Bones' point of view, although this evocation didn't exactly thrill him.

"That's very true", Brennan agreed, thinking that it was more important to go along with her partner than to lose time trying to analyze what he was saying.

"Might have coffee", Booth said, looking expectantly at his partner.

"Probably not", she retorted, thinking that she was seconding her partner's words.

"What?" Booth asked, stunned.

Brennan turned her head to him, surprised by his reaction. "What?"

She realized that Booth looked almost as if he had been slapped. "You wouldn't even have coffee with me?" he asked with a little voice.

"Well, in your scenario, we wouldn't even know each other because there are no murders", Brennan defended herself.

"Were", Booth corrected. "I said '_no more_ murders'."

"Then fine", she conceded. "I mean, we could have a coffee."

Sweets couldn't help but smile.

"So that's clear, then? I mean, we'd have coffee and that's our relationship? Coffee."

Booth stared at her for a couple of seconds before turning to Sweets, obviously embarrassed to keep going on the subject at the moment.

"Yeah, let's move on."

Again, Sweets smiled. Brennan shot her partner a look, but averted her gaze when he turned his head to her.

The rest of the hour fled with more annoying questions and stupid role-playing games, as usual. When, at last, they stepped together out of the torture chamber, Booth huffed with both exasperation—of knowing that this was only the beginning of a long series of God only knew how many sessions of this kind—and relief—for being left alone until the next week.

"You hungry?" Brennan asked with a slight smile.

Booth let out a sigh. "I'm starving. Gotta grab some files from my office first, though."

His arm circled his partner's shoulder and led her to the lift.

"See, we could have coffee, but we could have dinner, too—", Brennan stated as the doors of the lift closed, before looking up into her partner's eyes. "–couldn't we?" she added, almost shyly.

A smile curved the line of Booth's mouth. "You could cook me your famous Mac and Cheese, again, couldn't you?"

She beamed. "Sure, I would."

Both relieved of the knot in their stomach, they made their way through the dark, quiet corridor. It was Saturday night and very few agents were still working in the area. Booth turned on the light to his office, grabbed a few files on his desk and stepped back to his partner.

"So… Diner or Wong Foo's?" They stared at each other, for they had said it at the same time, before bursting out laughing.

"Look, I'm thinking… it's Saturday night and I have this wonderful bottle of hard liquor hidden in this cupboard," Booth offered with a grin, pointing his finger to said cupboard. "What do you say we order some take-out?"

Brennan's smile grew even wider, if possible. "Sounds perfect to me."

* * *

Brennan took the last sip of the hard, yet sweet liquid that remained in her glass, and relished the warmth spreading through her mouth, throat, down her trachea and her stomach. The disturbing feeling linked to the case had faded now. Sooner or later, it always did. It had to, or she wouldn't be able to keep doing this job. Sometimes, it took days to forget; some other times, it required the beginning of another case. But what helped the most was eating Thai food and having drinks with her partner. He looked more relaxed, too.

"We could still have drinks together, like now", she said, putting her glass back on the table.

"And we could both end up drunk, like now", he went on, pouring more liquor into her empty glass.

"I'm not drunk", she stated, although the sensation in her limbs and the slight dizziness she felt made her wonder if she'd be able to stand and walk when it'd be time to leave.

Booth locked eyes with her and leaned a little closer, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "And I could tell you that when you're drunk, your cheeks flush with a beautiful crimson color."

"What?" she cried out, touching her cheeks with her fingertips. "My cheeks aren't red."

"Yes, they are", Booth retorted with a firm nod.

She screwed up her eyes. "Okay, then, I could tell you that when you're drunk, you talk nonsense— "

"—and that I can almost see this damned line vanishing."

She shrugged. "If there were no more murders, we wouldn't be partners anymore. There wouldn't be any line", she stated as if it was the most logical conclusion. If alcohol did not spoil her analysis competencies, it seemed that it prevented her from realizing what followed from these few words—_There wouldn't be a line._

Booth rested his back on his chair. "So what would we be?"

She took a few seconds to consider the question. He had asked this innocently, yet, she read some kind of expectation in his eyes, and she knew that giving the wrong answer risked messing it all up. "I guess we would be… friends", she concluded after a few seconds of reflection.

Booth's screwed up his eyes as his look became more serious. "So, if this line didn't exist anymore, I could tell you that you're too precious to me to be only my friend."

She wondered if she had heard him correctly, or if the alcohol had made her imagine strange things come out of her partner's mouth. She narrowed her eyes, scanning his owns, and what she saw in them confused her.

"Really? You do mean what you've just said?"

"Sure, I do", Booth confirmed, swallowing some more liquor.

"So it's not because you're… drunk?"

He shook his head, grinning. Was he even fully conscious of what he had said?

"Na, Bones, I'm not saying that because I'm drunk."

He leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

"It just helps me a little bit," he said, before slightly brushing his lips against the smooth skin of her neck. She felt him closing his eyes, relishing in the smell of her. "And you know, if there wasn't this damned line, I could admit that your perfume always drives me crazy."

Brennan's heart beat quickened, the sensation of his warm breath on her neck sending shivers in her body. Usually, her rational and reasonable mind would have gotten the upper hand on her and told her to pull apart, quick. Usually, she might even have been afraid. Hey, this man wasn't anybody; he wasn't some guy met in a bar or in a club with whom she could have fun without dreading the consequences. This man was her partner. But this fundamental element was somehow left aside by what was left of reason in her, and no warning signal rang in her mind when Booth, encouraged by the fact that she hadn't slapped him or pulled back yet, moved his lips up to her face, tracing her jaw, then kissing the corner of her mouth.

"Maybe I could kiss you like this," he whispered under his breath.

"Maybe I would let you," she murmured, caressing the back of his neck.

"And maybe I could kiss you here, too," he said before catching her lips with his.

"And maybe it would feel good," she sighed, against his mouth, before wiping out the line completely.

The mocking line which they had just discovered they could make disappear by drinking a sufficient quantity of hard liquor in Booth's office on Saturday nights.

_**A/N : **__**Tomorrow's the day!! Well, it's today for some of you, tomorrow for the rest. If you didn't understand, never mind lol**_


	5. Very bad date

_**A/N : **__**You know what? I only want one present for Christmas : the end of the strike… Let's all cross fingers because the news are not that encouraging. I want more than twelve episodes or I'm gonna die… Anyway, here is chapter 5, and I'll update my multichapter very soon! Thanks for the kind reviews I received, they made me very happy**__****_

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**Chapter 5 : Very bad date ('Mummy in the Maze')**

It could have been a Halloween tale, starring a heroic squint, a sexy super-heroine with superpowers, an evil clown and an endangered teenage girl, brought together in a scary, nail-biting scenario. Usually, few Halloween tales have a happy ending, but this one was a peculiar one. The squint, who wasn't actually a squint but a trained FBI agent and former sniper, feared nothing but, ironically, evil clowns. As for her, the super-heroine didn't have any super-powers but steel bracelets and an enormous gun which turned out to be too heavy for her. Unfortunately for them, the clown was really evil, and the teenage girl was really in danger.

Things were not looking good so far.

But, thanks to a small miracle as it often happens in comic books, but not so often in Halloween tales, the heroic squint managed to kill the evil clown and, with the help of the super-heroine, he had saved the girl who had now returned to her home and her parents. Mission accomplished.

However, as the huge glass doors of the main entrance of the Jeffersonian opened to let him enter the building, Seeley Booth, aka The Squint with a Gun, didn't feel cheerful, and didn't feel like a hero. The first reason was that, like comic book heroes, he felt bad about having killed a man, even if, somehow, the bastard had deserved it. The second reason was that, unlike comic book heroes, he couldn't allow himself to kiss the sexy woman who had fought by his side and who was currently standing next to him in a slinky costume which accentuated the wonderful curves of her body. And the third reason was that, honestly, they both looked like hell, with dirty clothes and skin, wounded, a look of exhaustion stretched across their faces, and their hair a mess.

He took time to consider things, and soon decided that it was definitely the worst Halloween night ever.

Curiously, he noted that his costume made him almost feel that he belonged in Squintsland. But as their steps resounded in the empty, dark, and quiet lab, he wondered why the hell they had come back here.

"Where is everybody?" Brennan wondered.

"At the party, I guess."

As he was muttering these words, and although the idea had been thrilling him earlier in the day, he realised that he wanted everything but going to this party.

"We could still go," she stated.

_Oh, please… _"Aw… We look like hell," Booth retorted, hoping that this plain excuse would be enough for her to abandon the idea. He was not going to this party.

"It's a Halloween party," she insisted. "We could be Wonder Woman and, um... what's Superman's secret identity?"

Bad luck. It seemed that she was determined to go to this party, after all. He pulled his squint glasses out of his pocket and curiously, when he had them on his nose, he felt suddenly in better shape. "Clark Kent."

"Yes. We could be Wonder Woman and Clark Kent after a really, really bad date," she said, laughing.

Date? The word startled him and kept ringing in his ears. Had she just invited him to the party as her date or was he dreaming? Watching her absently sitting down on the stairs, he played her phrase again in his mind and eventually came to the conclusion that she hadn't meant that at all.

"Yeah, bad date because you shot me," he said as some way to soften his frustration.

"It was only a flesh wound. And you dropped me on my head," she retorted indignantly.

Yeah, well… Indeed, dropping her hadn't really been gentleman-like. His bad. But on the other hand, had she carried a smaller gun, it wouldn't have happened. "After you shot me. Okay, I think I got you on this one. Okay, Wonder Woman?"

She didn't contradict him.

Booth: 1 - Brennan: 0.

He couldn't hold back a groan when he sat beside her on the stairs. Jeez, his side and ankle hurt like hell. Well, hurting like hell was something he had actually experienced during his years in the army, and this had nothing to do with the painful torture he had undergone several times. Yet, every little muscle of his body seemed to sore. The realisation that he was whining about some mere flesh wounds annoyed him. Was he getting old or what?

"I'm sorry you had to kill someone. I know you hate that."

He didn't turn his head to look at her at once. He knew that he would find himself nose to nose with the incredibly low neckline of her costume, and it had already been difficult enough to look her in the eyes for the couple of hours she had been wearing it. Besides, he had to admit that the gentleness, honesty, and care in her voice moved him more than he wished it had, and that meeting her gaze would be hard to resist, too. Aw, if he could just hold her in his arms…

"Yeah, he had it coming," he said, trying to hide his actual thoughts with banalities.

He shot her a quick look for her not to think that he was avoiding her gaze, but almost immediately turned his eyes away.

"You hate it," she continued. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

He surrendered to the need to meet her blue orbs. Aw, those eyes. It was hard not to close the small space which was separating them and catch her lips with his. "We saved the girl. That's a pretty good date."

He hadn't been able to resist mentioning the date again, just to see how she'd react and what she'd answer to this.

"Except not really a date," she corrected quickly.

Okay, bad idea. What had he been expecting, anyway? "I know," he said in a 'did-you-really-think-I-was-serious' tone.

"It was work. Not a date," she insisted.

Oh, c'mon, Bones. It could have been. "Really, really hard one."

"And we're not really Wonder Woman and Clark Kent. We're Brennan and Booth."

"Look, you're the one who brought up the date analogy," he defended himself with a smirk, almost cutting her off.

She gave him a smile of embarrassment but said nothing and avoided his gaze.

Booth: 2 - Brennan: 0.

He looked at her, feeling satisfied to have almost made his Bones blush.

"You hungry?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Now that she brought it up, he hadn't had dinner. "Yeah," he said, immediately getting to his feet. He wouldn't have to be begged.

"Me, too."

Finally, they wouldn't go to the party.

Booth: 3 - Brennan: 0.

"Okay, let's go grab a bite to eat," he said, hitching because of the pain in his ankle. When he realised that she wasn't following him, he turned around, and found her spinning on the spot, her head tilted backwards and her arms spread widely.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, eyes opened in shock.

She stopped immediately, looking like a child doing a stupid thing and getting caught in the act. "Nothing."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. Who would have thought that Temperance Brennan was so into Wonder Woman?

He headed towards the exit, wincing at each step he took.

"You should have these injuries looked at," she said, catching up without difficulty.

He shrugged, pretending that he wasn't suffering. "Oh, you know, it's no big deal. I'll care about that later."

"You're hitching. I just hadn't realised it until now."

"I'm not hitching," he protested, doing his best to walk normally, but not really managing to.

Booth: 3 - Brennan: 1.

"You are," she insisted with her annoying stubborn scientific tone.

"Look, Bones, since you brought it up; you fell on your head yourself, maybe you should have it checked, too," he retorted pointedly.

"My head is fine."

"So is my ankle."

"You're bleeding here," she said, stretching her arm to point her finger to the injury on his waist.

As a reflex, he drew a step aside, fearing that she'd touch him. "Hey! Leave my graze alone!"

She ignored him and moved closer, leaning down to take a better look at it, and winced.

"According to what I can see, it's more serious than a graze. And in any case, if you don't get it treated properly, it'll get infected." She stood straight and looked at him as if he was a child. "I have some disinfectant in my office," she offered.

"Na, it's okay, you know, I'll take care of it when I'm back home."

"Oh, I see. You're also afraid of alcohol."

He let out an outraged chuckle. "I'm not afraid of—what do you mean by 'also'?"

"You're afraid of clowns," she replied with a smirk.

"You're afraid of harmless snakes," he retorted with the same tone.

"A lot of people are," she asserted.

"A lot of people are afraid of clowns, too."

"Nu—uh," she said with a mocking smile.

"This one shot me."

"The clown of the ice-cream truck did not."

"Okay, let's get this over and done with," he sighed, turning on his heels and heading for her office, imagining the look of satisfaction that had to be stretched across her face.

Booth: 3 - Brennan: 2.

He turned on the lights of her office and watched her taking gauze and a bottle of alcohol out of a drawer. He leaned on her desk and stretched out his arm, expecting her to hand them to him. But she didn't.

"Lift your shirt," she ordered.

"Wh—What?"

"Lift your shirt so that I can disinfect your wound," she specified.

"I can do that myself," he protested.

"I have a better view from where I'm standing. Come on, Booth, I don't bite. Don't be such a baby," she said, rolling her eyes.

Surrendering to her, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt. "All right, just… Go easy, you promise?"

"I promise."

"All right," he said, his voice filled with apprehension—not because he feared that it'd sting, but because he dreaded what her touch would do to him. In spite of this, he pulled his shirt to give her access to the wound on his side, while she was pouring disinfectant on the gauze.

Booth: 3 - Brennan: 3.

"Okay, don't move."

She bent down to take a closer look at the wound and the gauze approached his bare skin. When the wet dressing made contact with his skin, he winced, not really because of the pain but mostly to hide the fact that her touch made him shiver.

Unfortunately, she had most probably noted it because she raised her head to look at him. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

The tone of her voice and the look on her face told him that she was actually worried about it.

"No—not really," he answered, in a lower and hoarser voice that he had wanted to.

"Okay," she said with a slight smile before leaning down again.

Against his skin, the feeling of the coldness of the gauze and the warmth of her fingers was a sweet torture to him. Yet, it ended too soon.

"There," she said, throwing the gauze in the garbage can. "See, I didn't bite you."

Booth: 3 – Brennan: 4.

"Hold your shirt up while it's drying," she ordered before taking the gauze box and opening it again.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna do the same with your ankle now," she stated, as if it was the most logical thing ever.

Not giving him the chance to protest, she crouched down, then kneeled on the ground before him. Holy mother. Bones was currently kneeled on the ground, before him. He lowered his eyes to watch her movements, but when he realised that he had a panoramic view of her cleavage, he raised his gaze to the ceiling, begging God to let him be strong. She pulled up the bottom of the right leg of his pants and held it up, closing her hand around his calf. And then she began wiping the blood off his ankle. She was doing it so gently, so carefully, that it felt like a caress.

_Player__1 withdraws._

"I'm sorry I shot you." Her voice was low, guilty. For a couple of seconds, she stopped and she shot him a quick, shy glance, as if expecting him to say something.

"I'm sorry I dropped you," he said with lack of a better way to voice his forgiveness.

"It would never have happened if I hadn't brought that stupid gun. I should have realised that it was too heavy for me."

"Lo—look, Bones, it's okay, you know, it's—it's no big deal."

"You cold?"

"No—not really, why?"

" 'cause you've got goose bumps."

"It's not exactly hot in here," he lied.

"Ah yeah? I'm fine."

_Well,__maybe you should cover your upper body_, he thought, doing his best to look away.

"Wait, I'm gonna find something to make a dressing," she said, getting up to her feet.

"Oh, it's not necess—"

"Hold it up!" she squealed, grabbing his hand firmly and forcing him keep the hem up. "You shirt is dirty, Booth, so hold it up, or I'll have to do it all over again!"

He did what he was told, her tone not really leaving him a choice. He held his shirt up. He held his breath, too, and stood still at the feeling of her hand squeezing tightly his own one, her eyes upon his. Her gaze, severe at first, softened soon, and her lips curved into a smile of apology for having barked at him.

It was one of those moments when the seconds seem to last an eternity; one of those moments when time seems to stop.

He tried to read what was in her eyes, and as he did so, he realised that time hadn't actually stopped, but that she was merely lingering a little too long. Did she insist because she thought he'd let go of the shirt, or did she enjoy the contact of their hands like he did?

Before he could answer this question, she had removed her hand of his, a look of guilt and embarrassment stretched across her features.

"I, uh—I'm gonna find you something to make a bandage," she said before she turned.

But he missed so much the contact of her hand that he let go of the shirt and caught her wrist instead, holding her back and making her face him.

"Booth, you dropped it!" she said reproachfully.

"Yeah… You know, I don't—I don't need a bandage."

"You don't?"

"No, I—"

She didn't let him finish, forcing him to silence by suddenly pressing her mouth against his. Caught by surprise, he tensed up, but before he was able to gather his thoughts, he felt her about to end the kiss. Before she had time to pull away though, he caught her lips with his and she kissed him back, sliding her hands up his chest.

The kiss ended only when their lungs begged for air, leaving them breathless and giddy.

"I really feel better now," Booth whispered, leaning his forehead on his partner's, their noses slightly touching.

"Do you?" she murmured, shivering under the caress of his fingers brushing the bare skin of her arms and shoulders.

"You still hungry?"

"Are you asking me on some kind of date?"

"Call it as you wish."

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_**A/N : **__**Reviews (as for constructive criticism of course) are welcome, as usual!**_


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